


Come Closer

by fmt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:39:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmt/pseuds/fmt
Summary: Everything about Draco pulled him nearer, kept him entangled. He couldn't move away, even if he wanted to. So instead, he moved closer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are the property of J.K.R

The scent of Draco hung around his body, thickly cloaked and warmly wrapped. It fell, snug against his person like a second skin.   
Come closer, it said.   
Breathe deeper.   
It enveloped him, becoming an extension of himself without his knowledge or permission, just like Draco had in those first few months.   
Draco, who never pushed when Harry needed to touch, needed to feel.   
Draco, who let himself become a little softer around the edges, slightly muted but no less poignant. Just smoother, like a fine watercolor painting.   
He still jumped sometimes, when he was lost in his own world, when he wasn't expecting the unexpected.   
But he always made it up to Harry. Peppering him with smoke scented kisses and tobacco-touched fingers. Smoothing frown lines away as though he had the hands of God   
Omnipotent and omnipresent.   
Come closer, it said.  
Breathe deeper.   
And so Harry did   
He pulled himself closer every day, bridging the distance between their bodies with hands that reached and fingers that stretched.   
Because sometimes, when all your bridges were burnt, there was nothing left to do but build new ones.   
Harry knit himself into the fabric of Draco’s life, one twisting stitch at a time.   
Draco didn't mind.   
He hadn't minded that first night, when Harry fell, loose-limbed and cross-legged by his side and asked to bum a cigarette.   
He hasn't minded either, that Harry didn't smoke it at first, just rolled it between thumb and forefinger, staring at the lake with eyes that twitched and legs that danced.  
But Draco wasn’t all quiet passivity either. His colors hadn't faded all that much.   
When Harry plunked his bag down next to Draco’s for the first time, at the Slytherin breakfast table, he thought Draco would have a screaming fit, right then and there.   
When Draco woke up in the night, breaths coming frantically, he would shake and shiver, pulling away from Harry's grip until his sobs had quieted and his tears dried.   
And when Harry pulled him closer, inhaling the scent of Draco’s skin, hands wrapped around his hips, Draco wasn’t impassive at all. Writhing under the flick of a finger, the trail of a tongue, grey eyes shining with meaning.   
Come closer, it said.   
Breathe deeper.   
Which was good, because Harry wasn't all Gryffindor courage and reckless fancy either. There were days where he stayed drawn into himself, shrunken like a hermit crab into a shell of his own design.   
On those days, when he was stretched thin as paper, as worn as a well-loved rug, that the cloak that was Draco warmed him the most.   
When the rich scent crept tentatively forward on two fleet feet. As they slide into bed, planes pressed against planes, curves against nooks. They balanced each other that way, light and dark, ups and downs combining the two into that most magical thing of all.   
Come closer, it said.   
Breathe deeper.   
And so Harry did.


End file.
